Monochromatic
by Julchen M. Liddell
Summary: Life after the gallery has its ups and downs. Drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

Ib let him keep the handkerchief.

It wasn't as though she needed it, bloodied as it was, and seeing as it had just helped her and Garry remember each other she actually felt better about it being in her friend's possession instead of hers. After all, what if he started to forget again and needed a reminder?

"What makes you'd think I'd forget again?" he asked when she voiced her worry. Ib gave him a look and he smiled softly. "Listen dear, I don't intend to forget anything from today again...as much as I might like to, with some things." Garry shuddered. Ib could sympathize. "It's been quite the experience. Life-changing, probably. Too early to tell."

Ib shuffled her feet. "I just want you to keep it, just in case. I don't want you to forget about me. 'Cause my mom says when you don't see someone for a long time, if you never see them again, then you start to lose things about them." Her fingers curled around the lemon candy in her pocket. "You forget what their face looks like, what they sound like, what you did together. Even their name. Eventually they're just _gone_."

"Never see them again?" Garry looked aghast. "Ib, why on earth would you think we're never going to see each other again?"

"You were saying goodbye just now," she muttered.

"Goodbye doesn't mean forever," he told her. "Here, how about this..."

Garry pulled a small piece of paper and a stubby pencil out of his pocket and scribbled something down on it. When he handed it back to Ib, she saw it was in fact a napkin stained with a ring of coffee and something strangely pink. In the center was a messily-scrawled number.

"That's my telephone number," he said. "If you ever need anything or just want to talk, you can call it. If you need me specifically, just say so and I'll come see you, alright?"

Her throat feeling strangely thick, Ib nodded before throwing herself at Garry and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.

"See you later," she muttered into his coat. He smelled like smoke and old books. "Promise."

He hugged her back. "I promise."

She heard her mother (her real mother, this time) call her name and they broke apart. With a small wave and a hesitant smile, she turned away from Garry and went back to her parents.

In the car riding back home, Ib's mother spoke of nothing but the exhibit and her desire to return to see the rest.

"It's such a big area," she said, "there's surely more to be seen, don't you think? There's no way we could have covered it all today." She turned and smiled at her daughter in the backseat. "What did you think, Ib? Did you like Guertena? Would you like to go back?"

Ib twisted her hands together on her lap. No, she had not liked Guertena. Going back was something unthinkable.

"No," she said. "You can go, but I'd like to stay home next time. It was boring."


	2. Chapter 2

The first time she used Garry's phone number was two days after the incident at the gallery. Well, two days and half a night. It was nearly one in the morning when Ib tiptoed down the upstairs hallway to the phone table, trying to make as little noise as possible so to avoid disturbing her parents downstairs. They would likely not approve of her actions if they woke up and discovered what she was up to.

Reaching the phone and hating the feeling that she was being watched in the dark hallway, she clutched the stained napkin in her hand and carefully turned the rotary seven times. She waited as the other line rung with bated breath. It rung once, twice, five times and she was close to giving up before a click sounded and a groggy, wonderfully familiar voice said, "Hello?"

"Garry," she breathed.

"Ib?" His voice was sharper and more alert now. "It nearly one...are you alright?"

"I had a nightmare," she whispered.

Plenty of adults would scold a child for disturbing them in the middle of the night for something so trivial. They would say there was nothing to be afraid of, that the child was too old to be afraid of such fantasies.

Garry, however, sucked in a breath and repeated, "Are you alright?"

"I'm scared."

"Well, I should think so! Do you want to talk about it?"

Ib shook her head, then remembered he wouldn't see it. "In...in a bit."

So they just sat for a long moment while Ib tried to calm herself and Garry listened to her breath heavily and fight down tears. When she seemed to be a bit better, the older man steeled himself and spoke up, "How are you feeling?"

"I...I'm fine," she sniffed.

"Can I ask you something, Ib?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Why did you call me? Not that I'm not happy to hear from you, no matter the circumstance, it's just...if you had a bad dream, why didn't you go wake your mom and dad and tell them about it? Parents are supposed to be understanding and helpful about that sort of thing, after all."

Ib hesitated, then replied so softly Garry had to strain to hear, "I had a dream about the lady from the gallery. The one who looked like Mummy and wanted me to go with her. And I did. I went down the hall with her and left you behind and you kept calling my name, and then it turned out she wasn't Mummy at all and..."

She trailed off and wiped a few tears away, her breath coming in short pants.

"You're safe," Garry told her. "You don't have to be afraid of that. We're out of there now; nothing from the gallery can hurt you."

"I know," Ib whimpered, "but that doesn't mean it can't scare me."


	3. Chapter 3

School started up again a week later. Though she spoke on the phone with Garry every night after her parents went to bed, about the gallery and school and and other things, Ib couldn't help but feel apprehensive. She had never liked school much, not the classes nor the people in them. She was much better off alone (or with Garry, whatever the case might be now) and knew that her classmates found her more than a little strange. She didn't mind. During recess she sat and read, or drew in the small sketchbook her parents bought for her.

She used to have crayons, but threw them out. She was starting to hate the smell.

In any case, school began as usual and Ib entered the fourth grade. She sat in the back of the classroom and pulled her sketchbook out, deciding to doodle before class started. Though she intended to draw a bunch of flowers, the outline somehow blurred in the process and turned into a single rose, dripping petals. Ib stared at it, feeling uneasy. The blue ink of her pen didn't help matters.

She tore the page out and began anew, but this drawing turned into a mannequin in a dress with its head lying on the ground beside it, crying darkly shaded tears. The next, a leering woman with glittering dark hair encased in a picture frame. Then a doll with a stitched mouth and wild hair.

All the images were familiar and Ib hated them all. Why couldn't she just stop? The gallery was determined to haunt her wherever she went, it seemed.


	4. Chapter 4

People now laughed when Ib told them her nanny was an nineteen-year-old man.

Ib's father had gotten a promotion at his job and her mother switched to his business to help him as an assisstant. This meant that both of them would leave in the morning just after Ib left for school, and wouldn't return home until late at night each day. They didn't like leaving their nine-year-old alone for such a long time during the day, and so had brought up the subject of a nanny or babysitter to watch over her after school.

"You should do it," Ib told Garry that night. "They're gonna put an ad in the paper and a whole bunch of ladies will come over asking for the job, but I don't want any of them. If you do it we'd get to see each other every day."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea. It'd certainly be better than the job I have now."

"What's the job you have now?"

"I don't."

They laughed, and a weight on Ib's chest lifted a little.

"We could even go get macarons after you get done with school sometimes, if you want," Garry suggested thoughtfully.

"Only don't come over right away. That'd look kind of sus...spisc..."

"Suspicious?"

"Yeah..."

Garry laughed. "Alright, alright. Whatever you say, darling."

Two days later the applicants for the nanny position started filing in. It all felt very _Mary Poppins_ to Ib. She stubbornly refused to approve any of the hopeful women until the third day when Garry finally came traipsing in. Naturally the two friends pretended not to know each other, but Ib's happiness at seeing him again could hardly be restrained.

Ib's parents were a bit put off by the fact that he was a teenaged male with lavender hair and a ragged coat, but they couldn't deny that their daughter was certainly more taken with him than any of the other applicants. He made up for it with his charming attitude and endearing mannerisms, and the two adults eventually figured that maybe having someone just as odd as their daughter could be might be a good thing.

And so, seeing as Garry made a good impression in the end and Ib made a point not to like any of the other applicants, he was hired and was given the dubious title of 'nanny'. He complained about it being rather feminine, but Ib grinned and said it was perfect.

"Ib...what are you implying..."

"Nooothing."


End file.
